


Year One

by neko-nya (neko_fish)



Series: Yellow [7]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko-nya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first year is always the hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Year One

January 4, 2009

His side where his shirt rode up is cold. Even with the heat on, the crisp winter air somehow penetrated his room and made contact with his bare skin. Shivering, he blindly gropes around for his blanket in annoyance. “Kise, blanket…” he grumbles with half a mind to pounce the other for another source of warmth.

Then his brain catches up to him all too quickly and his stomach lurches as he sits up, his eyes wide and scanning the room for any sign of the blond’s presence. For a moment, he thinks he catches a glimpse of gold next to him, but as his eyes adjust, he finds nothing there and his blanket crumpled on the floor, cold and unused.

Eyes stinging, he pulls the blanket back up off the floor and over himself, and he stays that way for the rest of the day.

\--

February, 12, 2009

It was an idle thought that passed through his head as he walked down the street. Later, he would reflect that it couldn’t be helped with all the advertisements around at that time of the year.

Passing by a jewellery store, a glimpse of silver catches his eye and slows him to a halt. Backtracking, he glances down at the display of rings for sale.

A beautiful pairs of rings.

It’s then that the thought arises.

_He’d like these._

_He’s always complaining about how he doesn’t get anything from me for Valentine’s Day._

Just then, a store clerk steps outside and says to him, “Hello, were you thinking about getting matching rings for someone? I can help you inside if you’d like.”

The words get stuck in his throat, and unable to confirm or deny anything, he shakes his head and runs off.

\--

May 23, 2009

“… _and another beautiful play by…”_

Pumping his fist in the air and letting out a yell of excitement, without thinking, he grabs his phone from next to him and flips it open and begins typing.

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_Did you see that_

 

A jolt of realization hits him as he drops his phone onto his lap and looks away. His heart races and dread wells up in his stomach as he tries to convince himself to that seeing that all too familiar name on his screen didn’t have any effect on him.

Taking a deep breath, he erases the incomplete message, but even then, his traitorous brain whispers sweet words of hope to him.

_Maybe this time._

_Maybe this time there’ll be an answer._

\--

June 17, 2009

Eyes trained on the clock, he taps his finger impatiently, waiting for the second hand to make its way around.

_  
To: Kise Ryouta_

_Happy birthday. I remembered this year._

 

Send.

_“Bzzzt!”_

His phone immediately vibrates back and he tries so hard to suppress the sudden surge of hope in him.

 

**_*Message could not be delivered*_ **

\--

September 9, 2009

Walking down the underground passage from the train towards the exit, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of yellow in a bottled water ad and turns instinctively to admire it—to sear it into his memory so he can store it for later usage.

He doesn’t know why it catches him off guard when he sees a stranger looking back at him.

Eyes scanning down the tunnel, it numbs him to see new faces plastered on the walls. All those professional and amateur models framed behind glass with their alluring smiles and bright eyes, and not a single one _his_.

Replaced.

Forgotten.

“Dai-chan, what’s wrong? Why’d you suddenly stop?” Momoi asks from next to him.

His fists clench and he keeps his eyes to the ground as he walks on.

_This will change. Everything will go back to normal once he comes back._

_If he comes back._

_When he comes back._

“It’s nothing. C’mon, let’s go.”

\--

December 2, 2009

The whistle blows and the scores flash, announcing their victory. Across the court from him, Akashi wipes the sweat of his brow, eyes back to normal and a little softer than usual. He’s out of breath but euphoric with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and he looks up at the audience, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. It’s not hard to spot his teammates from Teikou: Kuroko, barely visible; Murasakibara, ridiculously tall as always; and Midorima, with Takao at his usual place by his side.

As he continues looking, he feels his smile slipping when he spots Kaijou’s former captain, Kasamatsu, looking down at him solemnly. They both must’ve had the same train of thought because although faintly, he can see Kasamatsu shake his head slightly as his eyes scan the sea of faces again, looking for a splash of gold.

_Not here._

_If there was any place he’d be, it’d be here._

_But he’s not here._

\--

December 5, 2009

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_We won the Winter Cup this year. You should’ve seen it. Kaijou made it to the quarter-finals._

Delete, delete, delete, delete, delete.

 

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_We won the Winter Cup this year…it was easy…_

 

Delete, delete, delete.

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_It’s been a year already. Where are you? Don’t you think it’s time you came back?_

Delete, delete, delete, delete, delete.

 

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_It’s been a year already. I miss you. Come back_

 

Delete, delete.

 

_To: Kise Ryouta_

_It’s been a year already…you can still come back any time you’d like, you know?_

Send.

_“Bzzt.”_

 

**_*Message could not be delivered*_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I found this half finished along with the other cheerier drabbles on my laptop. It put me in a reflective mood so I decided to finish it and just in time for today too.


End file.
